


A Lesson in History and Handwriting

by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf)



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: And bits about handwriting, Asian History is thrown in, Connor being a total boyfriend, Fluff, M/M, Oliver being totally adorable, and also random facts thrown in, cuz Ollie is perfect, lots of fluff, the Murder Five approves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/howl-to-the-wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt fill: "HTGAWM. Coliver. Ollie kinda accidentally helps Connor and co. on a case with his awesome smarts. Acknowledgment by the Murder Five and maybe Annalise too, please?"</p><p>Filled the prompt and added extra adorable Oliver, Connor definitely being a boyfriend, Laurel being a total sweetie, Wes as the earnest puppy, Michaela questioning everything, and Asher being a jerk. And spoilers: Annalise does give him her nod of approval, literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in History and Handwriting

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Lesson in History and Handwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848659) by [Summer048](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer048/pseuds/Summer048)



> An anonymous person actually dropped a prompt in my askbox. Like seriously out of the blue. I love Coliver and we definitely need more of these two surrounded by fluffy feelings after that last heart-wrenching episode so I decided to fill it. I think this isn't that nice though. But I tried. /embarrassed/
> 
> The case was totally made up and kind of way out, but the show's got more insane ones so... please ignore my mistakes.
> 
> Conrad Ricamora, who plays cutie pie Oliver, is half-Filipino, by the way. Makes me giddy and proud. *waves flag*

“So this is the horror house of Annalise Keating,” Oliver muttered to himself as he looked up at the nice-looking but somewhat intimidating abode. He really wasn’t one to judge another person, especially one he’d never met, but he heard enough stories from Connor about the legendary and frightening defense attorney.

Speaking of his not-boyfriend, Oliver checked that he had the right folder on hand before jogging up the steps to the front door and knocking. He heard shouting from the other side of the door and winced.

Connor sounded less composed than he usually was when he called earlier, requesting – demanding, really – that Oliver drop off some files he left on the coffee table after he stayed over last night. They were representing a student in some weird case against a history professor. Oliver didn’t really know much about it because for once he and his IT skills weren’t needed. He was surprised Connor even dropped by last night without any kind of request falling from his perfect, pouty lips. He just barged in toting Indian takeout, spent an hour ranting at Oliver about his workmates and then seeming genuinely interested when he asked Oliver about his day, before eventually dragging him to the bedroom.

Oliver actually had a lot of fun last night. He liked to think that boded well for their… non-relationship. Or whatever this was. It was still… somewhat vague.

He waited for a few minutes but it seemed no one was coming to open the door. He tried the knob, surprised when it twisted easily in his hand and the door swung open silently.

“This cannot be safe for security,” Oliver muttered to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Or good for supposed lawyer-client privacy.”

More shouting came from deeper inside and Oliver cautiously walked in, closing the door softly behind him.

“–only two hours so stop it!” a woman was saying as she stood between some guy in a suit with a really ugly-looking tie and, oh, there’s Connor.

“Normally, I wouldn’t mind watching you two go at it,” another woman dressed in a sleek business suit and tight skirt piped up. “But if blood gets on any of these stuff, we’re dead. That, and your voices are irritating. So you both sit down and… Zip! It!”

Connor just rolled his eyes in his typical bratty fashion and tossed his head back with a huff, while the guy in the ugly tie scrunched his face up and sent Connor a death glare. Oliver noticed a really gaudy and somewhat awful statue of a woman holding scales on the table beside him and was contemplating throwing it at the douchebag’s face when Connor finally noticed him.

“Oliver!” Connor’s face, previously scowling and angry, brightened up.

“H-Hi.” Oliver waved meekly, noticing how everyone in the room turned to him. He was at home when Connor called and had thrown on his softest and most favorite grey sweater and a clean pair of jeans. He looked okay but he definitely didn’t hold a candle to the other people in the room with their fancy skirts, ties, and dress shirts.

“Thanks for coming,” Connor said, stepping close to him. The familiar scent of the man’s cologne soothed Oliver a little. “Did you bring it?”

“Uh, yeah. Here.” Oliver pulled out the folder Connor needed and handed it to him.

“Thank you. I really needed this.” Connor sent him a small smile, one that was more Connor than lawyer-slash-complete-jerk-Connor. It made him look more handsome, in Oliver’s opinion.

Their fingers brushed as Connor took the folder, a very deliberate move on the other man’s part. Oliver could see gratitude in his eyes underneath the stress and tiredness.

“Don’t mention it,” Oliver said, returning the smile and straightening his glasses.

“Oliver, meet the people.” Connor tilted his head towards them, already busy scanning the contents of the folder. “Wes, Laurel, Michaela, and the irrelevant douche face.”

Ahh, that guy, Asher whatsis. Connor had ranted about the guy more than once. Asher scowled at Connor and Oliver was once again reminded of the woman statue as a viable murder object. The others seemed a tad bit more pleasant, from Wes’ sunny grin, Laurel’s polite ‘hello’, and Michael’s curt but interested nod. After a moment’s scrutiny of him, they all resumed working.

Oliver looked around the living room. It looked kind of like moving day was upon them, that and a furious hurricane. The place was utterly messy. A tall pile of boxes was by the wall behind the couch and Connor and his colleagues each seemed to have a box or five of materials to look through. There were books, notebooks, maps, blueprints, and more covering almost every surface in the room, even the floor, even the floor in the other rooms.

“We’re working against a deadline,” Connor explained. “Everything here has to be brought back to the man’s apartment in just under two hours and so far we haven’t gotten anything yet.”

“No, it’s fine,” Oliver said softly. He could sense the heightened state of stress and didn’t really want to get in the way. “I’ll call you later, yeah?”

Connor sent him a distracted smile and laid the folder out over a thick book on the table beside him. He started muttering to himself, a clear dismissal of Oliver more than anything.

Oliver turned around, ready to head back to his quiet apartment, laptop, and the string of codes he had to work on, when he saw something somewhat disturbing.

“Huh.”

Oliver reached over by reflex, arm stretching towards a notebook propped open on a chair beside Michaela. The familiar colors of red, blue, white, and yellow in the picture called out to him.

“Hey!”

Oliver jumped up in shock. Michaela was looking up at him, eyes on fire, and free hand pointing a pencil at him, pointy end out.

“Don’t,” she said, looking just about ready to poke him. “This is evidence, so don’t go around touching stuff.”

“Michaela, don't poke him.” Connor spoke up. He looked away from his work and fixed Oliver with a slightly scolding look. “And Oliver, don't touch that.”

Oliver flushed, feeling a little chastised. He cleared his throat and tried to stop his tone from coming out in a whine as he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s wrong.”

Everyone immediately turned to him. It was kind of creepy the way their heads literally turned to him in unison, all of them wide-eyed and gaping.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” Laurel asked, leaning forward to try and see the notebook.

“I… um…” Oliver stepped back, realizing this wasn’t his area of expertise anyway. “It’s nothing really. I’m sorry. I just–”

“Spit it out, nerd,” Asher spoke up.

Even Laurel and Wes glared at Asher, but it didn’t hold a candle to Connor’s look of absolute murder. Oliver could now understand why Connor hated this guy so much.

“The sun should have eight rays,” Oliver blurted out.

“What?” everyone asked.

Oliver pointed at the notebook, which just so happened to be showing a hand-drawn picture of the flag of the Philippines.

“I don’t know if it’s just an error or something, but the sun on the Philippine flag has eight rays,” he explained.

“What does it even matter?” Asher scoffed. This time, Michaela shushed him.

“Of course, it matters,” Oliver said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He couldn’t help feeling somewhat insulted. “The eight rays represent the eight provinces in the Philippines that revolted against Spain during the…” He trailed off with a sigh at the look of annoyance on Asher’s face. “Okay, I know you're not here for a history lesson so I’ll stop. Maybe I’m wrong and the person who drew this just made a mistake but–”

“How do you even know that anyway?” Michaela asked, eyes narrowing and sending both him and Connor suspicious glances. She looked both annoyed and begrudgingly perplexed at Oliver.

“Oliver is half-Filipino,” Connor answered for him. He grabbed his phone and after a few moments showed him a Google search image of the flag. “Eight rays like this, right?”

“Yeah.” Oliver nodded.

“This one from his 2010 lecture has eight,” Laurel spoke up, holding up a notebook. “Though, the red part of the flag is on top.”

“Ah, no! No!” Oliver shook his head. “The blue should always be on top, unless it says anything about war. The Philippine flag is the only flag in the world that can be turned upside down. If the red’s on top, it means the country’s in a state of war; blue, on the other hand, means peace.”

“Fascinating,” Asher said, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Connor, your booty call’s a total nerd.”

Connor threw a book at Asher’s head making Michaela shriek a, “That’s not even ours, Walsh!”

“Don’t talk about him,” Connor snapped.

Wes sighed, waving a hand at Asher to shut up.

Laurel, on the other hand, looked a bit awed at Oliver after reading the notes in her hands. “Huh, the notebook actually said the same thing. That's actually very interesting.”

Oliver ignored Asher, returned Laurel’s smile, and turned back to the notebook. He flipped a few pages and stopped, making a face at what he read. “Euphrates is spelled with an ‘s’ and it’s not a country. It’s a river, considered the Fertile Crescent along with the river of Tigris. Also, the Terracotta Army in China was built during the reign of Emperor…” He waved a hand. “… Huang, I think? Shi Huang?”

“I thought you were from the Philippines?” Asher asked.

“I thought Connor said you worked in IT?” Michaela asked.

“I thought this guy was supposed to be a professor of Asian history?” Wes asked the room in general.

Oliver shrugged, looking at the others in turn. “It also means I'm Asian. And I do work in IT but I like studying history, especially of Asian countries. And I don’t know if this guy really is supposed to be a professor of Asian history, but he's obviously not a very good one.”

“Is it possible he could have just made elementary mistakes?” Wes asked, lips downturned into a frown that didn’t sit right on his puppy-like demeanor. “The man might be a history professor, but he is human.”

Connor was looking at Oliver as he spoke, “Maybe, but so far we already found a few mistakes in his works. It doesn’t fit a supposedly well-renowned, prestigiously-awarded professor.”

“Wes is right though,” Laurel said. “He might just have made a mistake about it. We can’t discount the possibility of human error.”

“Check all the books,” Michaela said, jumping into action. “We might find more errors.”

“How are we even supposed to know if it’s right?” Asher whined, though he readily grabbed a notebook off a pile beside him. “We’re not professors in Asian history. We’re not even Asian.”

“Oliver is,” Connor said. “And thanks to him, we now have reason to believe there is a chance this guy isn’t really a legitimate professor. We just need enough evidence to support it.”

“We have to double check everything though,” Michaela said. “The police said the man’s credentials checked out, but if there’s a chance the professor faked all that and managed to fool them, we have to find out.”

“Hey, what’s the capital of Bhuuu-taaan?” Asher called out, head lolling towards Oliver.

Oliver sighed, stopping himself from rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He schooled his expression into a calm one.

“It’s Bhutan, as in boo-than, and its capital is Thimphu.”

“Well, at least this one’s right,” Asher said, turning another page in the notebook in his hand.

“Wow, you’re really smart,” Wes commented, a sunny smile on his face as he looked up from where he was trawling through a box.

Oliver has heard that remark a thousand times before, though usually they were more mocking and less earnest. He smiled at the tall, lanky male.

“Uh, thank you.”

Oliver jumped when he felt something brush against his hand and turned to see Connor, a prideful and appreciative smile on his face. It made him blush, fiddling with his glasses. Connor always seemed to appreciate Oliver’s brains. Well, he should considering how much he used them for the often not-quite-legal and the occasional definitely-not-legal ventures. It stung, but Oliver was used to it. Kinda.

They looked through a few more stuff and while Oliver could answer a lot of the basic Asian facts, they had to look up others. It didn’t take them long to notice that most of the mistakes started around the year 2013 to early 2014.

“How can one man start slipping within a year?” Oliver asked, looking at the notes with distaste.

“It was actually a theory we were going with before,” Connor explained. “We were wondering if it was possible the man got knocked on the head or has gotten sick with something. It was the best explanation we could think of considering how much his students said his personality turned a sudden one-eighty.”

“We now have more grounds to pursue that theory though,” Laurel said. “We never really looked through his medical records. We could do it now, see if he’s had any checkups within that time frame.”

As they all made plans, Oliver kept skimming the notes. The man’s lectures, for all they were wrought with inaccuracies – because the historical uprising in Myanmar started in August 8, 1988, like seriously 8888 wasn’t that difficult to remember – they stirred good memories of spending time with his father, who was a big history buff.

Oliver could remember the times they would quiz each other, his Dad’s loopy handwriting a clear picture in his head from when he would flash him the names of the countries’ capitals, important dates, or names.

Speaking of handwriting…

“Huh.”

Michaela perked up, turning to him. “The first name you said that, you found something. What is it?”

Oliver just spat it out this time. “I think his handwriting changed.”

Wes looked awed. “You know handwriting too?”

“And now you’re a handwriting analyst?” Asher asked. “Where did you find this guy, Walsh?”

“He picked me up at a bar. I was helpless to resist,” Connor replied without missing a beat as he moved beside Oliver, looking at the notebook. “What do you mean?”

Oliver was distracted for a moment by what Connor said. That was the exact opposite, but Asher looked so put out, it was funny.

Oliver explained what he noticed. “See here?” He pointed at two notebooks from the years ’13 and ’14. “His t’s are struck too high before, but now they’re shorter and more at the middle. Also his o’s have a curl that wasn’t there before.”

“People can change their handwriting,” Michaela said. “If we go with the theory that he might have contracted some kind of condition, his handwriting might have been affected along with it.”

“I just noticed it because my Dad kinda writes the same way,” Oliver said softly. “With the loopy l’s and the way the i’s are dotted, though no two people could have the same handwriting anyway.”

“Really? Like DNA?” Laurel asked. Oliver liked her. She was the nicest.

“Yeah.” Oliver nodded. “Though with exceptions. I mean, twins have the same DNA, though not the same fingerprint and–”

“BROTHER!” Wes suddenly shouted, jolting up from his seat. He started flapping his hands around and looking at everyone. “T-T-T-The brother! H-His brother! That brother!”

“What brother?” Michaela asked.

“The professor had a brother!” Wes exclaimed, suddenly becoming more and more excited.

“Estranged brother,” Connor said, tapping his lip with a pen. “Divorced parents, if I remember correctly, so his mom took his brother and they haven’t seen each other in decades.”

“Do you remember when the professor’s behavior changed?” Wes asked as he started going around the room like a hurricane, looking through folders and scanning papers. “His students said he suddenly became more outgoing sometime last year after he went to see his mother. There’s no doubt the brother was there. What if they saw each other again?”

Laurel seemed to jump in with his idea. “Right! And remember what our client said? She said,” she flipped through her notes and red, “and these are her exact words, ‘It was like the professor was a new man’.”

“Identity theft?” Michaela practically screeched. “Seriously? Identity theft?”

“By someone who already looks like him!” Wes said, looking triumphant.

“Identity theft by an identical twin brother?” Michaela definitely screeched this time. “Are you insane? That stuff only happens on TV! Get a grip, Wes!”

“But remember what he said,” Wes pressed. “The professor said it himself during questioning, that he found out his mother died sometime last year and went to see her. He even had to arrange the funeral, because of money issues. He took off for three weeks for… was it, Wisconsin?”

“Yes, and he said that his new outlook on life was because he paid his respects to his mother and made up with his brother,” Laurel added, getting on board Wes’s idea. “But he also said that his brother wanted nothing to do with him anymore, left no contact numbers, no address, nothing.”

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Asher spoke over everyone. “The professor finds out his mommy’s dead so he goes to visit her which was when his identical twin most likely killed him and then came back to take over his money and his life.”

Everyone was quiet, obviously hesitant to believe something so outlandish. Even Oliver didn’t believe it, but he thought it was possible because, hey, there were probably some total nutcases out there.

“Wow. This is some serious NCIS shit,” Asher said, looking far too excited. “I love this job!”

“It does explain why our client felt the professor had changed somehow,” Connor said slowly. “And how she was surprised he denied knowing who she was and broke things off, and how the little things have changed.”

“She has grounds to be suspicious because she was sleeping with the guy,” Michaela said, still looking disbelieving. “But the professor’s name does carry some weight so a background check wouldn’t have been necessary and he could have easily dodged any suspicion by pinning everything on his mother’s death. People do tend to be more lenient when there’s a death in the family.”

“And people don’t usually question a change in behavior if they assume it’s a positive change,” Laurel said. “And even if they tried to look too much into him, Oliver did say that it won’t show up in DNA test, since they are twins.”

“Fingerprints.” Wes snapped his fingers. “Oliver said fingerprints.”

Michaela waved a hand at the room. “We’re surrounded with his stuff. We could use all this.”

The door slammed open and all the lawyer-hopefuls in the room immediately shut up, sat up, squared their shoulders, and straightened their spines. It was almost like a switch was flicked on. Even Connor looked different, more like the Connor he first met at the bar, the suave, prim, unreachable Connor, not the Connor who hogged the blankets, or sometimes drank warm milk before bed, who whined incessantly when takeout got his order wrong, or who liked pressing kisses to Oliver’s chest and shoulder when he was feeling particularly happy or pleased with something.

Oliver scrunched his face up. He didn’t much like this Connor.

A woman walked in and there was immediately no doubt in Oliver’s mind that this was the famous –infamous, actually – Annalise Keating. She certainly had a formidable presence and a gaze that looked like lasers would shoot out of it.

Professor Keating was flanked by a smarmy-looking man and a slim, blonde woman who was frowning.

“And who is this?” Professor Keating asked. She gave Oliver a cursory glance and swept past him. Oliver suppressed a shiver at the oddly ominous feeling that crawled down his spine.

Connor stepped up. “This is Oliver.”

“You mean _that_ Oliver?” the guy with Keating asked. Connor mentioned this guy. Frank, was it? He looked kind of like a pompous jerk. “This is a place to work, Mr. Walsh. Not a place to socialize.”

“And why is everyone just sitting around?” the blonde woman asked, surveying the boxes. Bonnie, the one was Bonnie. “We have a little over an hour before we have to return all this.”

Oliver flushed, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t want Connor and his colleagues to get in trouble. Except maybe Asher. The guy’s a douche anyway.

“Actually, Oliver helped us out,” Wes spoke up.

“Oh? We’re just accepting help from anyone now?” Professor Keating asked, tossing her bag and ledger on a table. She raised a brow at Wes, though she looked oddly less strict when addressing him.

“He’s not just anyone,” Connor spoke up, stepping almost between Oliver and Keating. “He’s my boyfriend. I asked him to be here and he actually helped us figure something out on the case.”

…Boyfriend?

Oh.

OH!

Oliver felt his face explode in a flush and he looked down, fidgeting a little on his feet. It sounded odd, a nice kind of odd, the kind of odd Oliver could definitely get used to.

Connor explained what evidence they had so far, showing off the drawing of the Philippine flag that started it all and some of the corrections on the notebooks that Oliver made. He also mentioned the discrepancies in handwriting, along with the three-week gap the man went missing and his eventual return which corroborated his students’ perceptions of his changed demeanor, and then wrapped it up with their theory about the professor and his estranged brother, who might possibly be a twin.

“Wow. Just… wow.” Bonnie was wide-eyed and pursing her lip in thought. “Did you guys even hear yourselves?”

“It’s not quite a foolproof theory,” Michaela cut in, laughing a little. “We could still argue the idea that the man’s contracted a possible medical condition or something. We know the twin theory is totally insane, but even if it’s not we could consider the fact there’s still enough here to go on.”

“What? The twin theory makes total sense,” Wes argued, narrowing his eyes at her. Michaela just scoffed at him.

“Frankly, that’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard,” Frank said, though there was an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips. He winked at the room, showing that he was actually pleased.

“But just the right kind of crazy to actually make sense,” Professor Keating said, the edge of her lip quirking in a small smile.

The change in their professor seemed to invigorate everyone and the previously stressed and sour mood in the room turned excited and charged. Professor Keating started handing out assignments for each one in rapid-fire succession and with so much lawyer lingo that Oliver would have been confused if he wasn’t used to hearing Connor use the same words.

“Get to work everyone,” Professor Keating said. She sent Oliver one last look and Oliver stood stock-still, trying to look as respectful as possible. She just gave him a curt nod and walked off into her office.

Oliver tried to hide his relieved sigh, but the amused look on Connor’s face told him he didn’t succeed.

“Good work,” Bonnie said, gazing at everyone, even Oliver. “Make sure to pack up the boxes before you follow orders, since we still need to return all these.” She went into Professor Keating’s office.

Everyone nodded and started putting everything away.

“I thought you were more for random booty calls, Walsh,” Frank said, from where he was texting someone. The professor had asked him to find more about the brother’s identity and find a handwriting analyst, and Oliver remembered Connor mentioning that this guy wasn’t actually a lawyer.

“At least this one’s got more than a pretty face,” Frank added.

“P-Pretty face?” Oliver asked, making a face. No, he wasn’t.

“Boyfriend,” Connor said firmly, giving Frank a squinty-eyed look. “And yes, he is more than his dashing good looks.”

Oliver flushed at the praise. Connor was always free with praise, but never really in public and certainly not with that obvious spark of pride and warmth in his voice.

Frank walked off, following after Professor Keating. Asher started making gagging noises and kissy faces at Connor. Laurel and Michaela sent Asher disgusted looks. Wes nudged Asher, sighing at the male’s antics.

“Your jealousy is showing, Millstone,” Connor said, scoffing.

Oliver tugged on Connor’s arm. “I should go and let you guys get back to work anyway.”

Wes instantly stood up, holding out a hand to shake and patting Oliver on the shoulder. “Thanks so much for your help. And it was really nice to meet you.”

Laurel followed suit. “You were a lifesaver, Oliver. Thank you.”

“You should come and get drinks with us sometime,” Michaela said. There was a sharp and calculating glint in her eyes,.

“Ha-ha. No.” Connor glared at her. “You are not grilling him like we’re in court and wringing out anything about me from him.”

“The offer stands though,” Laurel said, cutting in gently.

After a few more goodbyes from Wes and Laurel and a careless goodbye flick of the hand from Asher, Connor escorted Oliver to the door.

“Thanks for everything, Ollie,” Connor said, smiling and looking more relaxed than he was before. Connor was usually so wound up and Oliver liked seeing him less pressured and less frantic.

“It’s not a problem.” Oliver smiled. “I’m glad I could help. And I’m kinda happy I met your colleagues and your boss. Even though Professor Keating scares the pants out of me and I didn’t really care for that Asher guy.”

Connor chuckled at that. “Well, you certainly left a good impression.”

Oliver grinned. “Call me after work, okay? See you later.”

Oliver turned on his heels, ready to go, when Connor’s hand grabbed his arm. He turned to him, only to be met with Connor’s face close to his and lips against his own.

The kiss wasn’t like their usual ones, the passionate, frenzied kisses that was a prelude to sex, or the hasty, impersonal ones Connor used to give him before he had to leave. This one was kind of like the sweet, languid kisses Connor gave him now before they both had to rush off for work, or whenever Oliver had a bad day, or during the post-sex afterglow, or sometimes even in the middle of watching TV.

Connor pressed closer, lips molding smoothly against his, and thumbs rubbing Oliver’s cheeks as his hands cradled his face.

No, Oliver was wrong. This was definitely a little more than all those other kisses, even more than all those other kisses combined actually. This one was passionate, drugging, and heavy. It made Oliver’s head spin and heart stutter. It meant something.

Connor leaned back and Oliver opened his eyes – and when did he close them, anyway? – to see his boyfriend’s bright-eyed gaze.

“You look good by the way,” Connor said. “I really love this grey sweater on you.”

Oliver was still dazed as he stuttered something out. Hopefully it was complimentary, but whatever it was, it made Connor smile anyway.

“See you at home,” Connor whispered against his kiss-swollen lips.

Oliver nodded slowly, knowing he had a giddy and ridiculous smile on his face. Home, huh? He liked that Connor would think of his apartment as his home too.

After one last kiss, Connor walked back inside and closed the door.

Oliver walked down the steps in a daze. He paused on the sidewalk and looked back at the house and surprisingly, he didn’t feel as cowed or intimidated as when he first saw it. He smiled to himself, thinking about how the whole day thing went. Things turned out better than he expected. He turned on his heels and walked off.

He pulled out his phone when he heard it ring in his pocket.

_**From:** Connor_  
 _ **Message:** you were amazing. see you tonight. expect a reward for all your hard work ;) xxx p.s. everyone says thank you._

Oliver grinned.

This day definitely turned out the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr at: [howl-to-the-wind](http://howl-to-the-wind.tumblr.com).


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